


Claim These Bones

by burningcas



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Pre-Relationship, Prompt Fic, Short & Sweet, Tumblr Prompt, blushy blackwall?, i think YES
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:07:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23694364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burningcas/pseuds/burningcas
Summary: based on the prompt: "How long have you been standing there?"
Relationships: Blackwall/Female Inquisitor, Blackwall/Female Lavellan
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17





	Claim These Bones

Elora liked the stables. It was one of the more calmer places in the hold, she noticed. The only people who frequented it were the stablehands, and even then they were scarce in their appearances most days. She also liked the horses. They were different from halla, but she didn’t mind it. She still remembers when she first rode a horse, having to adjust to the fact that the mount could easily hold her and her heavy armor (at the same time, nonetheless) and maintain it for far longer than that of her clan’s halla. Where the soft bleats of roaming halla reminded her of home far away, the gentle nickers of horses were a reminder of her current, much closer home.

She found she also rather liked the Warden that seemed adamant about sleeping in the barn. Many times Elora tried suggesting that he claim an actual room, offering one to him every time. But every time he would politely decline and keep to the lone bedroll on the floor of the barn.

Her visits to him became more frequent as of late. It started to become a habit of hers to come down to the barn or the training yard or wherever Blackwall may be wandering about and ask if he would be interested in getting dinner at the tavern. He would give a small bow and reply with, “I’d be delighted to, my lady,” and off they’d go. It was just another of the many steps in the dance that they had found themselves in. Elora liked their dance.

Tonight was no different. She walked leisurely down the stable, returning Master Dennett’s nod of greeting as they passed each other. She stopped by her mount briefly, a forgiving, steadfast, pale horse, one that she had quickly gotten along with. She gave him a pet on his velvety, inquisitive nose, and a pat on the neck before continuing on her way.

She saw his shadow before anything else, the fire that he kept in the middle of the space making it dance on the walls. Her practiced steps brought her silently to the doorway of the barn before she heard it.

_“Drowning in the waves, a girl I met._

_‘Wink, good ser, and tell a saucy tale!’_

_I plucked ‘er up with a fishin’ net._

_‘So buy the lads a round!’”_

Elora stopped, his back facing her. He stood by the table he used as a little work station for the various projects he did in his spare time. He was blocking what he was doing from her view, but Elora saw the sheared off strips of wood that fell to the ground near his feet as he worked.

_“Oh, the Storm Coast may yet claim these bones,_

_But I’ll sail until they do._

_So tell the girls I’m coming home,_

_With enough coin for two.”_

His voice was low and gruff, a rough baritone. Some words were more pronounced while the rest were mumbled as he worked different parts of whatever he was carving. It was untrained, but pleasant. Sure, he may not have passed off as a bard, but Elora smiled as he sang.

Slipping into the room, she tiptoed along the wall silently. He hummed a bit, some break in the song, his mind absorbed in his work. She walked forward to one of the wooden posts in the room and rested back on it, her arms crossed in front of her as she listened to him. His head slightly nodded side to side in beat with the song, making Elora grin. 

It was almost strange seeing him like this. He was usually all about duty and sacrifice (which must’ve been a Grey Warden thing, she often thought) when they were out in the field or before he let himself relax a little in the tavern. Even then, when he’d have a couple ales with their circle’s regular tavern dwellers, she could still see him holding back a little, never completely letting himself enjoy the company of friends.

But here, with him singing some song that Elora had never heard before, he seemed lighter. 

He once told her that he did wood working because it “kept the hands busy”, which she understood. The paperwork and political niceties she’s had to participate in since becoming Inquisitor left her feeling restless at best, and downright feral at the worst. She could only imagine how much more sedentary his current occupation was compared to his previous one of a wandering Grey Warden recruiter.

_“In the Nocen Sea, swims a mighty beast._

_‘Wink, good ser, and tell a saucy tale!’_

_I’ll show you the scar where he sank his teeth._

_‘So--’_ FUCK ME!”

Blackwall turned suddenly and jumped, his outburst startling Elora just as much as she did him. He dropped the small chisel in his hand, his back slamming into the table. Elora said nothing, the two of them held in a moment of equal stunned silence.

“I, uh--” Blackwall started, “I-I was just uh, hmm.” He cleared his throat and tried again. “How long have you been standing there? My Lady?” he added as an afterthought. She smiled.

“Not long.”

“Ah. Well.” He collected himself, the fire highlighting a hint of a blush peeking up above his beard. He leaned down and picked up the dropped chisel, putting it back on the table. Elora pushed off from the beam and walked over to him. She looked over to the table and saw a half-carved chunk of wood. It wasn’t finished yet, but she could clearly see the rough form of a sitting dog. She reached over and picked it up, turning it around in her hand.

“You are very good at this,” she spoke earnestly.

“Thank you, Inquisitor.” She put it back down where she found it. “It’s been a while since I’ve tried to make something small like that. Been working mostly on this,” he gestured to the rocking griffon. She nodded.

“What was that song?” she asked, large, black eyes looking up into his grey ones. He seemed taken aback for a split moment at her sudden shift in conversation before light embarrassment colored his features.

“Oh, nothing. Just some song I heard in some tavern a while ago.” She hummed.

“It sounded very nice.” Blackwall barked out a laugh.

“I don’t know if I’d call my singing that, but…” he trailed off, running a hand through his hair. “You’re very generous with your compliments this evening, my lady,” he said instead.

She gave a small shrug, smirking up at him. “I just call it as I see it.”

He gave another chuckle. “That you do, that you do.”

He looked back down at her, his eyes finding hers and staying there. The fire flickered in his eyes, lighting them up under dark eyebrows. Neither of them spoke for a few heartbeats, filling the air with their fledgling unspoken language. Another step in their dance.

She broke the silence first.

“It’s about supper time. Would you like to accompany me to the tavern?” She put her arms behind her back, holding onto her wrist. He smiled and bowed his head briefly.

“Of course, my lady.”


End file.
